


il vento scrive.

by VesperVega



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Blood and Violence, Boxer Kim Hongjoong, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Lots of Angst, M/M, Minor Choi San/Jung Wooyoung, Other minor couples - Freeform, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, University
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:21:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23924536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VesperVega/pseuds/VesperVega
Summary: Soulmates are a rarity, and in all honesty nobody wishes to have one. They share pain, wounds and bruises since birth, as if they had the same body.So it really doesn’t help that Mingi’s soulmate is an underground fighter, does it?
Relationships: Kim Hongjoong/Song Mingi
Comments: 7
Kudos: 81





	1. fermi a mezza via.

“You sure you don’t wanna skip the matches this weekend? You'll be starting classes in two days and I don’t want you waltzing into the room looking like a Picasso masterpiece.”

Hongjoong sighed in response, running a hand through his white hair. Seonghwa had a point, but he needed to let off some steam, and he knew no other way of doing it other than just punching some dudes in an abandoned warehouse. Even better if there was a crowd cheering for him.

“Hyung, I’ll be fine. It’s not like they hit me in the face as often as I hit them.” he chuckled, jokingly hitting the raven haired boy next to him as he sat up from the bed, stretching his arms a little.

The room Hongjoong had moved in a week prior was tiny and bare, just a bed, a closet and a desk, but he had consciously chosen it. He prioritized being alone over a little more floor space, because he’d rather no one bother him if a couple nights a week he came back at four in the morning, looking like he had been run over twice.  
His few possessions were all scattered around the place, since he couldn’t bring himself to care about putting them away just yet and resorted to simply leaving them wherever he felt like. The only thing that seemed to be in the right place was his semester class schedule, hung up on the door.

Seonghwa, opting to try a different strategy, offered to go for a walk and grab some coffee, and Hongjoong nonchalantly agreed, throwing on a leather jacket fished out somewhere around the foot of the bed to fight the chill of the late autumn afternoon.

They walked in silence, eyes wandering around the seafront of the small university town, the lack of words masked by the crashing waves echoing off the old brick buildings. Hongjoong breathed in the salt air, the solid presence of his oldest friend by his side, no rush of adrenaline or throbbing pains, and consciously tried to unclench his jaw and relax the tight fists he had shoved in his pockets. Moments like this, the last stray warmth of the sunset and the golden glow it left behind, made him wish things were different. Perhaps, in another life, a better Hongjoong wasn’t a year behind in his studies, and had friends that weren’t made next to a fighting ring drinking cheap soju. 

Seonghwa snapped him out of his thoughts, asking him what he wanted to order, but it wasn’t until they sat down on a bench, warm coffee in hand, that the eldest thought it was time to properly talk and try again. 

“Joong, things are… different , here. The rings have less rules, and more blood. I’m not telling you to stop fighting, but maybe wait things out a bit, settle down, start your classes, then you can start again in, let’s say, November?” he proposed. His voice may have seemed distant and practical, but the hands fidgeting with the paper cup sleeve said otherwise. “Jongho has already told me he won’t fight until then, and it wouldn’t be bad for you if you did the same, you know? If you really need the money-” 

Hongjoong cut him off with a scoff, “I’m not doing it for the money, Hwa, you should know. I fight because I _need_ it. Now stop trying to convince me, get me a spot tonight and place your bets.” His gaze was hard as stone, ending the conversation in an instant. The sea breeze’s calming effect vanished in mere seconds, and as he sipped on his coffee, he was already tensed up again, dwelling on what will be awaiting him that night. 

Seonghwa could almost see the gears turning in his friend’s head, but he knew Hongjoong too well to believe he’d be able to stop them any time soon. He’d have to try again at a later, hopefully better time, he pondered while finishing his coffee. He barely spoke again, and left not long after with a resigned head shake, promising to send him the fight ring location in a couple of hours.

Hongjoong barely contained a smirk at those words and he waited for the elder to disappear from view in some side street before springing to his feet, nerves shuddering with repressed energy. His slender frame blended with the long shadows casted by the setting sun as he hurried back to the dorm, tense hands dug in his pockets. Once in view of the building he broke into a sprint, darting up the floors like a bat out of hell, three steps at a time.

He slammed the room door behind himself, shrugging the jacket off his shoulder and throwing it to the floor. He scrambled underneath the bed, pulling out a tattered gym bag and rummaging through his contents. Pulling out a mess of fabric, his whole body visibly relaxed as he exhaled. Almost ritualistically, he began to untangle the dirty white strips, his mind unraveling along with the knots. 

He was the Blood Fox, after all, and nothing felt as good to him as the thrill before the hunt.

As Hongjoong left his room, car keys in one hand and google maps open on his phone, two floors above his room a couple of best friends were setting up a last minute Netflix marathon, having decided Pixar movies were more inviting than the chilly evening, especially with the bars still half empty as students reluctantly moved back to the city, unwillingly having to recognize the end of the summer break. 

Mingi had assigned himself the utmost important role of blanket fort architect, and was carefully setting up a masterpiece between the two beds. After all, San had a  _ projector _ of all things, and that treasure deserved to be used in an equally amazing manner. 

The projector owner, on the other hand, was busy with their tiny microwave and a couple bags of instant popcorn, because nothing in the world could convince him to leave his lanky friend to prepare food alone for more than five seconds. Pouring the last bag into a bowl, he made his way to the astonishingly lopsided fort and a bouncy Mingi, that patted the pink pillow next to him in excitement.

“What are we watching?” said San, sitting down with a grunt.

“Road to El Dorado!” exclaimed Mingi as he turned the screen on, snuggling face down between all the pillows. He shook his hair, candy red strands flopping out of his way messily above the biggest smile, chin resting on crossed arms as he searched it up in the movie library and pressed play.

San set down the bowl, seeing an opportunity as a mischievous smile spread across his face. With pretend innocence, he stretched with a long yawn before flopping down with all his weight on Mingi’s back, laughing at the surprised yelp and distressed noises coming from beneath him. His friend wriggled and tossed trying to get him off, but he was laughing so hard he couldn’t put any strength in it, and had to resort to San’s mercy and wait for him to spare the poor redhead’s spine. 

“You wanted to kill me without even giving me a chance to rewatch my favorite childhood movie? Heartless!” cried Mingi, theatrically desperate, but was cut short as San, rolling behind his plushies as cover, threw him a handful of popcorn. 

“You can’t hit me back or you’ll hurt Shiber!” declared the blonde, and Mingi couldn’t help but break into a defeated laughing fit, followed suit by San. He  _ tried _ controlling himself, shusing San to be able to hear the movie, but it only took an exchange of glances to burst out louder than before, teary-eyed, until their tummies hurt and the movie had to be replayed from the beginning. 

The two friends finally managed to quiet down, but it lasted literal minutes because, as anyone would know, the soundtrack of this movie was the perfect basis for a Grammy-worthy karaoke duet. At some point, things went downhill when San loudly bet on his lackluster ability to catch popcorns with his mouth, and they held their breaths and cheered at the end like it was their first time watching it. 

Mingi almost wanted to see another movie, but reluctantly had to admit they were both tired, it was kind of late and they needed to rest if they wanted to get anything done the next day. Too lazy to take down the fort, San climbed back in his bed, tightly hugging Shiber, and wished a sweet good night to Mingi as the redhead reciprocated, walking out of the room for a quick trip to the floor bathrooms. 

When he came back San was already fast asleep, and with a soft smile he climbed in bed too, already excited for all the things they had planned. 

It was gonna be a great day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for checking this work out! i’m a bit of a slow one when it comes to updates, but if you want in the meantime you can find me on twitter as @vesper_vega. if you want to talk i’m there! thank you again


	2. nuovo sangue, sempre sangue.

The room Joong was waiting in felt stuffy and cramped, not big enough for his restless pacing. Seonghwa’s cigarette smoke certainly didn’t help, those ghostly tendrils lazily curling around his body as the eldest lazily exhaled, leaning back on that black leather sofa. After nearly kicking the small coffee table at the centre of the room for the fifth time, Hongjoong decided it would be in his best interest to stop and settle down, leaning against the wall opposite Seonghwa.   
He would have loved to make fun of the eldest for sitting on such a clear feast of cleanliness, but the wall behind him was darker than the ceiling and suspiciously blotchy, so neither of them were really in the position to talk. 

Fixing the wraps around his wrist, he closed and opened his fists, eyes reduced to smoldering slivers. From the floor below he could hear more and more people coming in to join the “party”, but there was still plenty of time left before it started, and he _hated_ that. He wanted to get it over as soon as possible, step on that ring and knock out whoever stepped foot on the other side in a couple seconds flat. Well, maybe not exactly _as soon as possible._ After all, it was the expectation that killed him, but on the ring, oh did he have fun on the ring. Maybe he could provoke his enemy first, have a laugh, and toy with them. The audience was ultimately here for the show, and suspense raises the stakes, so consequently, bets. His paycheck. If the fight was too easy, where was the point, the entertainment of it all?

Lost in his thoughts, he was almost startled by Seonghwa, breaking the thick silence for the first time since he was welcomed in the room.   
“I’ve set you up easy tonight, Joong, since you haven’t fought in weeks. If you stay focused there’s no way you’ll screw up.” he declared, crossing his legs with composure even on that tattered sofa.  
Hongjoong opened his mouth to reply, instantly pissed at that insinuation. Had Seonghwa forgotten what he could _do_ ? How dare he even _imply_ Hongjoong could screw up? 

However, as if on cue, the door swung open and a dolled up Wooyoung leaned on the frame, cutting him off. “You’re wanted downstairs, babyboy.” he smirked, fixing his black choker with a nonchalant finger. 

Joong always marveled at the way his friend managed to look so put together, so effortlessly _stunning_ , even with a pair of simple black jeans and a see-through crop top. When his signature undercut, recently a stunning lilac, was walking through the crowds, the bets collected were consistently higher. Lastly, even though he only tested it once, Wooyoung sure was a great fuck. 

Seonghwa sighed and stepped on the cigarette stub as he rose from his seat, acknowledging Woo with a small nod and preceding them below. Hongjoong discarded his shirt and motioned to follow him but a ringed hand caught his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. A few seconds of silence passed, that uncomfortable quietness that made his skin itch, but as soon as Seonghwa’s footsteps were far away enough, Woo spoke.

“Trust me, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. They’re gonna kick your ass to Pluto if you’re not careful.”

“That’d be a cold day in hell if he manages, Woo.” Hongjoong managed a dry chuckle, swatting his hand away and stepping outside. He heard a mumbled answer, but didn't bother listening. If both of his friends had decided to treat him with kid gloves, he was gonna prove them _so_ wrong. He stomped his way down that narrow staircase, and once at the bottom he headed left, towards the blinding doorway waiting for him like a beast’s mouth.

His lips curled into a wicked smile as he inhaled slowly, beginning to walk towards the arena. The clamor of the crowd got louder with every step and he felt his grin grow and his muscles awaken in response, tensing up with adrenaline and expectations. 

A deafening uproar greeted his last stride through the blinding light and he threw his head back, arms to the sky, parading to his corner of the ring.

_“EVERYONE, PLEASE WELCOME THE BLOOD FOX!”_

  
Mingi had felt so tired less than an hour ago, but he couldn't close his eyes for as much as he wanted. One moment his body felt boiling hot, but throwing away the covers only helped for mere minutes, until he was freezing and covered himself back up again. His mind raced as he tossed and turned, hopping from worried thoughts about the beginning of the semester to pondering whether or not red hair actually suited him, and everything in between.

“San…?” he whispered in the pitch black room, squinting to see if his roommate was awake. Usually he would talk to San until he was too tired to reply, but this time his best friend was out cold, gracefully snoring, and sure now there was no chance of bringing him back to the world of the living unless you were his alarm clock.

With a resigned sigh, he grabbed his phone off the nightstand and rolled to the other side, opening Instagram in the hopes of tiring himself and passing out, sooner or later.

  
  
  


Hongjoong stood in his corner of the ring and felt every single muscle in his body pull taut as he coiled in a defensive stance. The “referee”, just the current head of the bet circles, was waiting in the center for his opponent to be ready as well.

Wooyoung was right, this one was what he considered a decent opponent. He was tall, thick, with clunky slow footing, and more the type to hit twice and think once. Hongjoong had vague memories of this guy, someone that he had seen before, but not in a match. He remembered a match with that blonde friend of his, now standing outside of the ring, but certainly not…

“THE NIGHT DRAGON, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!”

Yeah, whatever _that_ was supposed to be. _What kind of nickname...?  
_ Hongjoong smirked provokingly, eyeing his opponent. The other spat back at him, and Joong just couldn’t resist an irritating wink.  
The angrier his enemy was, after all, the better his strategy would work out. 

_“ARE WE READY?”_

The crowd thundered and he absorbed it all, raw energy rippling through him like shock waves, roaring with them, fists so tight the wraps dug into his skin.

All the adrenaline, the expectation, the power twisted deep inside him, a beast ready to be unleashed at will whenever he wanted. 

Oh, he had _never_ been more ready. 

Breathe in. Breathe out.  
Close your eyes.  
Focus.

“FIGHT!”

  
  


Mingi had been focusing on that roof crack for what felt like ages. Pretty sure it wasn’t there last night? Was it normal to hear the blood pump in your ears like that?  
It was almost as if he had drunk an entire jug of black coffee, his insomnia worse than ever. 

He really considered waking up San, maybe even “accidentally”. For sure, he could surely help him calm down from whatever the hell _this_ was. San was always able to make him sleep, usually. 

Deciding he’d just call out to him one last time he sat up, but as he opened his mouth, white hot pain cut through his ribs.

  
  


“ _FUCK_!”

  
  


Hongjoong stepped backwards, slightly stumbling. He did _not_ see that coming, and this dude hit hard. But he could be startled once, never twice, and it was the first hit he landed yet. Joong could still deal with him. 

He lunged forward, ducking under his guard. A solid undercut, and back again, out of his reach. The other growled, trampling forward, but Hongjoong was faster. Jump in, forward, kick to the knee, and out of his reach.

The enemy raised his fist in response but he dived down, to the side, left hook to his ribs, elbow to the back.

That was his tactic: quick on his feet, slippery, frustrating.

  
  
  


At least his scream had woken up San, who sprung by his side in seconds.  
“Mingi?! Are you alright?” 

“I… here, San… another one” Mingi managed to spit out with a broken voice.  
Under his oversized shirt, a massive red rash was blooming on his ribs, already turning purple in some places. 

San cussed under their breath and got up to grab some ice from their mini fridge (a dorm necessity, albeit they needed it for entirely different purposes), and carefully helped Mingi set it up on his side, careful of any unwanted movements.  
“Is it broken? Do you need to go to the hospital?” he worried as he draped the cover around his friend’s back to help him stay warm.

“No, no, I’m fine, it’s just a bruise. At least I hope.” Silence fell on the two of them, San lightly stroking his arm, hoping it would help him calm down. His hand froze in place when Mingi spoke again, voice dangerously shaky. “I… thought they had stopped, San. I haven’t had bruises in weeks, I hoped… maybe it was over?”

San’s heart crushed, but as he was about to speak again Mingi cowered down, hands dashing to his face with a loud wail. Blood trickled between his fingers as San curled his arms around him, careful of his hurt ribs, and whispered soothing nothings to him.

“I’ll bring you to the hospital tomorrow, okay? It’s gonna be alright, Mingi, I promise. It’s gonna be fine.”

  
  
  


Hongjoong had almost forgotten how much nose punches actually hurt. His head recoiled back as blood smeared all over his chin, but he quickly retaliated with a blunt kick to the chest. 

His enemy slowed down with a grunt, but didn’t fall, and kept prowling towards him. 

Fuck it, plan B then.

Inching backwards, Hongjoong led his enemy to the corner, pretending he had nowhere else to go to and no stamina left. Once he felt the metal rails dig in his bare back, he curled up as if resigned, eyes glinting with ice under his raised guard.

His enemy foolishly took the bait and roared with the crowd, sure of a clean, easy victory, and sneered with pride. 

_Wait._

The Night Dragon cracked his knuckles, closing the small distance between them.  
“You’re all talk, Fox. Is this what you call a match?!” 

_Wait._

He lifted his fist up for a last, deadly blow, the crowd cheering on him with all its might. He raised his head and basked in the glory for just one moment. 

Deadly mistake.

_Now._

Hongjoong ducked under his legs with a smooth roll, straightened up and elbowed the other with all his strength before he could even realize. He crashed on the rails with a broken grunt, but Joong wasn’t done yet. He had to knock him out.  
Grabbing a fistful of the other’s hair he threw him backwards and kneed him straight in the jaw with the hard knock of bone on bone as his head snapped back. 

Out cold.

Instantly the crowd fell silent in shock. The whole twist couldn’t have taken more than five seconds. Hongjoong breathed slowly, then smirked as he straightened up and placed his foot on the loser’s chest. 

“I am the Blood Fox.” he declared, white hair smeared with crimson blood as he ran his hand through them.  
“AND THE BLOOD FOX NEVER LOSES.” 

_“BLOOD FOX! BLOOD FOX! BLOOD FOX!”_

Hongjoong raised his hand and left the ring with the crowd chanting his name. No sound was sweeter to his ears than the anthem of victory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading this chapter! if you want to talk about this work or anything else you can find me on twitter as @vesper_vega! thank you again


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